


The Fixer

by Kaykil



Series: Malcolm Tucker and the Women of The Thick of It [1]
Category: In the Loop (2009), Thick of It (UK)
Genre: Explicit Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 06:31:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/647599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaykil/pseuds/Kaykil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When (yet another) scandal looms on the horizon Helen is sent to Malcolm to ask him to work his dark magic.</p><p>First part of a series written for this prompt:</p><p>The female characters POV of Malcolm. Can be first impression, a general reflection over time, or a specific instance that defines who he is for that particular character. I'd just like to see the way they think about him and deal with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fixer

**Author's Note:**

> Rating is only for language and the usual Malcolm Tucker stuff :)
> 
> Set before series 4 but after the election

“Look just try to calm down, okay?” Helen rested a hand on Nicola’s shoulder, a gentle calming presence as she listened to her boss’ breathing become slightly erratic. Helen was used to the minor panic attacks now. She did witness them a few times a day. And that was on a good day, which seemed to be few and far between. 

Nicola took a deep breath and lifted her head slightly, hands entwined in her hair.  
“Get Malcolm. Malcolm will-just get him!” she commanded before letting her head fall onto the desk again. Helen hesitated for a moment wondering if it was wise to involve Malcolm when someone was in such a fragile state. After a moment however she left the room and began along the corridor to Malcolm’s office.

The dull rhythmic thud of her heels on the faded carpet calmed her slightly. There was a leak of course, some nonsense about James Murray, a room full of strippers and cocaine. It didn’t even matter anymore what the story was. There always seemed to be a crisis of some kind happening when you worked with Nicola Murray. This wasn’t the first time; there had been many scandals over the past two years in opposition. And of course, Helen was always sent to the dark wizard of the party to sort it out. 

She stepped into the small office where Sam was sat, typing rapidly. Sam looked up and gave her a slight smile. Sam’s office at the opposition headquarters was no bigger than a stationery cupboard really. A desk was squeezed in, but to Helen it had always seemed like the purpose of the room was to separate Malcolm from the rest of the party. For whose sake she wasn’t quite sure.

Helen wasn’t sure about Sam. She seemed nice enough but Helen found it incredibly odd that anyone would be willingly close to Malcolm for so many years. Sam even seemed to enjoy it. There always seemed to be something in Sam’s gaze that Helen found unnerving, as though she knew everyone’s deepest, darkest secrets. Considering that she knew Malcolm better than anyone else in the party, she probably did. Helen was always scared to say anything much to Sam, though she supposed they should get on. They were a similar age, shared a similar job after all. But she could never get over the fact that she was convinced her whole conversation would be reported back to Malcolm, and she was terrified of doing anything that would bring his wrath upon her.

“I need to see Malcolm. Is he free?” she asked before Sam could give her the usual pleasant, professional routine. Sam hesitated for a moment. “It’s for Nicola. It’s important.”

“Of course.” Sam stood and took the two steps it took her to reach the closed door of Malcolm’s office. She gave a short knock before pushing open the chipped wooden door and stepping inside. 

Helen hesitated for a moment, trying to shake the tension from her shoulders and the dread that she was feeling. She could never quite shake the fear of interacting with Malcolm, although he was apparently tamer now that they were in opposition. In fact he was becoming somewhat of an outsider, a joke with some of the shadow cabinet. But Helen could still see the dangerous intelligence in Malcolm’s eyes. Helen had heard the stories from Ollie and Nicola of the terrifying Malcolm who ruled Downing Street with his razor sharp wit and inventive threats. Helen still remembered the first time she encountered Malcolm. She had felt sick with worry before hand, convinced he was going to stab her the second he laid eyes upon her. But she had been surprised by his charm. Oh, he was terrifying, she could see that as he leaned into her personal space and told her that if she did anything to harm Nicola Murray’s career (thus making the party look bad) he would have her head on a spike. However he was also intriguing, enigmatic and a definite charmer.

She stepped into Malcolm’s office after Sam and saw the man himself looking up from a report.  
“Thanks Sam.” was the first thing he said after he surveyed the pair of them for a moment. Sam nodded and left the room, shutting the door behind her, locking Helen in the lion’s den.

“I doubt your here to wish me a job well-fucking-done in turning her disastrous BBC interview into something that made her look like a half credible fucking human.” He said standing and removing his glasses. She looked away slightly, not wishing to stare into his eyes, half convinced she would turn to stone, or that he would steal her soul. Helen opened her mouth to speak before she registered what he had said.

“That was disastrous?” she asked before cursing herself internally. Malcolm looked amused. Well, as amused as he ever looked. Which was to say he wasn’t scowling quite as viciously as normal.

“Darling, where you even watching the same interview as the rest of us? Of course it was fucking disastrous. It was a media equivalent of the fucking Japanese tsunami.”

“Oh, I see. No, it’s just that...there’s a situation.” She said, wincing slightly when his eyes narrowed.

“What is this? A fucking awful spy movie? The cat has left the fucking cradle!” He took a step towards her. “Stop speaking in fucking codes and spit it out.”

“James Murray has been spotted with some work mates at a strip club. We’ve had a hint from someone at the sun that they’ve got an interview with one of the strippers whose claiming that there was cocaine and some...escorts involved.” 

She watched for a minute as his whole body remained locked in the same position, head tilted slightly to one side as he stared at her. Then she jumped slightly as his frozen face leapt back into life.

“Oh fucking hell!” He whirled round and for a moment she flinched back but he only headed to the other side of his desk, already reaching for his phone. “When I get hold of that fucking twat, I will have him hung in the fucking entranceway. I will redecorate the walls of this shithole with his fucking STD ridden blood.”  
He dialled a number then with the phone to his ear stormed to the door, throwing it open.

“Sam, get Freddie here ASA-fucking-P.” He said before storming back to his desk already demanding to be put through to someone’s boss on the phone.

“So, you’re sorting it?” she asked cautiously, Malcolm already seemed to be ignoring her presence and she wasn’t sure if she was dismissed.

“Of course, I’ll sort it. That’s what I do.” He said sounding almost tired. He closed his eyes briefly and for a moment she had the urge to reach out a hand to his shoulder, as she did to comfort Nicola. His eyes snapped open and he looked at her steadily. “You should go see to Nicola. I’m sure she’ll be panicking and could use a cool head like you darlin’” 

She nodded and even managed a smile for him before leaving his office. The smile grew slightly as she heard his yelled threats echoing down the hall as he spoke on the phone. The next morning she sat with Nicola and scanned the papers for any mention of James. As she saw the story the sun were running on two government ministers having an affair she had to smile as she admired Malcolm’s work.

“Thank god for Malcolm, eh?” Nicola muttered as she sipped a fresh cup of tea, looking haggard but more relaxed. 

“The fixer.” Helen muttered. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud, and for a moment she felt like an embarrassed teenager again, worried of sounding too childish. However Nicola just smiled.

“That he is. I bet he’d like that as well. Makes him sound like some sort of mafia boss”


End file.
